Musings of Mr Darling
by Lady Saffron of the Daggers
Summary: A small one-shot centered around Mr. Darling while his children are in Neverland.


Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story, that honor belongs to Mr. Barrie.

The characters I imagined while writing this fic were based around the parents in the 2003 movie. I hope you enjoy it.

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Mr. Darling stared out the window, taking sentinel while his wife slept. She had stayed on watch for three days, barely dozing. His sister-in-law had finally taken it upon herself to bring his wife to bed. She would only consent if someone stayed at the open window though. George had agreed immediately. He regretted it now. He had been stationed in this spot for five hours with nothing to distract his mind. He didn't want anything dealing with work, and books reminded him too much of Wendy's love of stories. He didn't want to dwell on the knowledge that his children wouldn't be coming home, but that's all there was to do.

Gazing at the beds, he imagined that he could see them lying there, whispering a conversation while their parents lay sleeping in their own bed. Wendy would be telling them some wild adventure of some wonderful princess that was brave and strong. He began humming a lullaby he would sing them when they were all toddlers. Mary would say it was too depressing, but he believed it to be more about faith than anything else. It had been Wendy's favorite. She had heard it the most, but hadn't asked him to sing it for her in years. He realized then that she had grown up. His Wendy had grown up without his prompting or yelling. She was no adult, by any means, but she had grown. She didn't need _him_ for anything but financial support. The boys still loved when he went out back and played with them, although that was much less nowadays. Wendy hadn't come to hold a conversation with him in years. She wasn't his little girl anymore.

A tear slid unwanted from his eyes. His last words to her echoed in his head. "It's time for you to grow up!" Their unrelenting, cruel demand grew louder and louder until George believed that he would go deaf from them. George ran a trembling hand over his face, smearing the tears up to his forehead then his hair as he smoothed it back and leaned forward, attempting the thoughts to stop entering his head. He hadn't said "I love you" when he left for the party. She had stood at the top of the stairs after hugging her mother goodbye. Theye had made eye contact, but he had still been too furious to speak to her. He wondered now if she had seen the disapproval of her in his eyes. He hoped not. All he wanted to do now was beg for forgiveness. He couldn't believe how he had treated her. What father treats their daughter like that?

"George?" a soft feminine voice called from the hallway, startling him from his thoughts. "George, have they returned?" Mary asked, closer this time.

George wiped his face quickly and turned to the window so she wouldn't see the tell-tale tracks of his tears. "No Mary, they haven't. Go back to bed." He was surprised when his voice didn't crack. He realized that he had to remain strong for her. He had to keep up his calm façade so that she could break down. Only one of them could fall apart, and Mary had taken that position, no matter how much George want to do so. "It's only been five hours," he said when he heard her stand behind him.

"I couldn't sleep. I dream that they're back in their beds, sleeping peacefully. It hurts more and more to wake up."

George heard the despair in her voice and stood quickly. He wrapped her in a hug for him as well as for her. "Don't say things like that," he whispered shakily. "Please don't say that. They'll come back. People are looking for them. They'll be found and they'll come back soon."

"You can't promise that, George. You can't, and I need to be certain that they will." Mary clung to him and George Darling felt his knees lock, attempting to hold both of their weight when he could barely hold his own.

"You're right, I can't promise that, but I can promise you that I will hold that belief for as long as they're gone and you're with me. The moment you leave me is the moment I lose that belief and the moment I lose that belief is the moment they won't come home. Please don't leave me, Mary," he said into her shoulder.

It was then that his wife seemed to realize how much her husband also missed his children. She had never assumed him indifferent, but he was always at work, and when he wasn't he was never in the nursery. She had spent the past three days there and had no idea that he had been meeting with officers and detectives. She drew back and saw his red face for the first time. Her delicate hand cupped his cheek as she looked in to his blue eyes. "George," she whispered.

"I can't lose an entire family, I'm having enough trouble losing the children." Mary said nothing, instead choosing to guide him back down to the wing chair and curled her small body into his lap, resting her head against his. George held her to him and stared out the window with her, waiting for his family to return home as the words echoed through his head again and again.


End file.
